


Auntie's Afghan

by mvernet



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Crochet, Forces of Nature, Hurt Hutchie, Hurt/Comfort, International Day of Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky offers some comfort after Hutch saves a life. </p>
<p>A little fluffy Hurt/Comfort for The International Day of Slash, July 1, 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auntie's Afghan

“Take it easy, Hutch. I’m takin’ you to the ER. Jeez, you’re freezin’. I’ll get Auntie’s Afghan. Won’t be a minute.” 

Starsky pulled up the collar of his yellow, police issued rain parka. He leaned over and gave Hutch a quick kiss. In his hurry, he planted it haphazardly somewhere on Hutch’s soaked hair. Hutch tried to open his eyes and smile at his partner, but he could only shiver. 

Bay City was floating away. Three days of torrential rain had turned trickling viaducts and gently lapping canals into coursing rivers and mud slick swamps. The bay was overflowing and taking out seaside cottages and peaceful bridges like a WW ll sabotage team. 

Right in the middle of the destructive forces of nature were Starsky and Hutch.

Just an hour ago, Starsky and Hutch had witnessed a compact car trying to make it across a water-swamped bridge. A huge wave hit the car and shoved it against the guard rail. Hutch was out of the Torino before Starsky could even slam the gears into park. Hutch waded across the bridge and dragged the panicked driver out of the car. He wrapped the man in his own yellow slicker and headed back towards Starsky and safety, when another wave hit.

Starsky, radio in hand, barked hurried orders for assistance, never taking his eyes from Hutch’s. When the wave hit, the driver let go of Hutch’s steady arm and went over the side of the bridge, becoming a blur of yellow in the turbulent waters below. Starsky gasped as his partner, without hesitation, jumped in after the man.

By the time Starsky practically slid down the embankment, Hutch was pulling the driver to safety. Exhausted, the victim and his savior dropped on to the muddy shore. Hutch figured he must have hit his head because when he could finally opened his eyes he saw Starsky wrapping him in Auntie’s Afghan.

Hutch looked down at the well-worn and well-loved blanket. He fingered the wooly twists of color. He knew little about crochet, but he knew the rolling and curling stitches were unique. They made the afghan heavy and warm when you were cold and weary or soft and airy above the heat of fever, as if the fibers had been woven with magic. The stitches reminded him of the windswept dunes of Lake Superior, ever changing, yet always there. Like Starsky’s love. 

“There you go, babe. All tucked in.” Starsky placed his hand on the afghan over Hutch’s heart and looked into his eyes. “Hutch? Ya gonna tell me you’re fine?”

Hutch tried to smile and croaked out, “I’m f… f… fine.”

Starsky chuckled and rubbed his hands over Hutch’s afghan-covered arms to warm them. Then he kissed Hutch’s mud-encrusted cheek and moved on to lightly touch his lips. Hutch responded with a slow sigh when Starsky pulled away.

“Sorry, hero. I gotta get you some medical care. Make sure you didn’t knock somethin’ loose in that dumb blond head of yours.” Starsky tucked the blanket in one last time before starting the car. “You just let Auntie’s Afghan do her magic.”

Hutch watched as the rain against the passenger side window made stripes of light and stripes of shadow across the afghan. It had all the colors of the earth in it. Browns, greens, yellows and dark reds. Hutch’s favorite piece of yarn was the one that was the warm brown of Starsky’s hair.

Hutch found it and followed it with his finger as it turned and twisted and finally tied itself to a piece of yarn the color of cornsilk. He had followed that particular strand before, after he had been strung out on heroin, tucked safely into Starsky’s bed. Auntie’s Afghan held Starsky’s place when he would have to leave Hutch alone for a little while.

Hutch shivered and pulled the blanket closer. Starsky darted his eyes over to Hutch when he caught the movement. “Almost there, Hutch. I love you, buddy.” 

Hutch turned his head, which brought a wave of pain, “Love you, Stars.” Hutch turned slowly back and focused on the blanket.

~~~O~~~

Hutch had assumed that Starsky’s Aunt Rose had made the afghan. He asked him politely one night when he was wrapped in it after a bullet had grazed his head and Starsky was a nervous wreck over it.

“Naaaaa. She wasn’t the crochetin’ type. Rather spend a night out with the girls at Rocky’s Cafe’. I think some cop wrapped it around me sometime when I was in shock. Ended up in the trunk of my old car. Then made it through the cut to the Torino.”

“Why do you call it Auntie’s Afghan?

 

“You don’t remember, babe? You named it.”

“What?”

“One night you showed up drunk after Van dumped ya. Said you needed to borrow Auntie’s Afghan, ‘cause ya was gonna live in the LTD.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you were so darned cute. I wrapped you up in it and put you to bed. It’s been Auntie’s Afghan ever since.” 

~~~O~~~

Auntie’s Afghan was working her magic. Warm images of being wrapped in love filled his mind. After every cold hard knock he had taken, Starsky was always there with Auntie’s Afghan and a loving touch.

“Come on, babe. We’re here. Let me have Auntie’s Afghan so we can get you on the gurney.”

Hutch didn’t want to let go, “No.” Hutch said defiantly. Starsky looked at the orderly and tried again. “Hutch you swallowed most of the bay and you have a concussion. You need to get looked at, then I promise, I’ll take you home and tuck you in.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, babe.”

Hutch smiled and passed out, never actually letting go of Auntie’s Afghan.


End file.
